


A little break

by oliverthelongfurby



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Warnings in the notes, everything is really not fine but Michael wants it to be, fantasty au, hello LGBTQ community, i consistently spell gerad's name wrong and you all just have to cope, i had other things i wanted to write here but i forgot, i have no idea how to spell that, i just mix a whole lot of cultures and magic but i think its nice, masquerade!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliverthelongfurby/pseuds/oliverthelongfurby
Summary: Michael sneaks into a party on a dare, and he really doesn't expect to have a good time.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Kudos: 17





	A little break

**Author's Note:**

> CW for alcohol use, referenced kidnapping and murder.  
> If anything else needs to be warned, please tell me in the comments!!

Michael stood in the corner awkwardly. He’d snuck in the ball, the masquerade, as they were calling it, behind a group of nobles, on the dare of a couple of his friends. He was exceptionally good at getting into secure spaces.

Like the shop he’d stolen the corset, suit, and jacket from, which he was itching and sweating under.

He pulled his collar, drinking from the glass he had. He wasn’t sure what exactly was in the glass, but it had the fuzzy tinge of alcohol without the burn. It wasn’t like the whiskey he’d stolen from army encampments and the ever-growing horde of paid murderers and those who stole wandering the poor slums and hills just outside the center of the city. It was sweeter, too, a more delicate taste. And although it didn’t burn as much, he could tell it was much stronger.

He made a mental note to pocket a bottle when he could. This would sell for a lot.

Michael lazily surveyed the crowd. He felt his cheeks slightly flushing from his drink, but by the looks of many of the nobles around, even without seeing their faces under the masks, that wasn’t a concern. He felt a slight bubble of annoyance at this, but rather than dwelling on it, he surged out into the crowd.

There was a sweet tune being played on a small band with a lute, piano, and flute, and many in the crowd were dancing to it. It was a simple dance, but not one Michael knew, likely not performed in the dance circles he was familiar with. Those were much more fun. But, alas.

He navigated swiftly through the crowd, eyes resting on those that, while being dressed in masks like the guests, were clearly guards by the swords held at their waists and the extra padding in their arms, chest, and legs.

He surveyed those he passed, until he saw a man that was most definitely a noble. Michael supposed that the man could be faking, like him, but found it more unlikely due to the quality of the clothes.

The man had long, wavy dark hair with small braids interwoven in the mix. He was wearing a blue-gold patterned skirt that flowed down to just past his ankles, toes of his black expensive-looking heels peeking out. He had a figure that was too well-maintained to NOT be the work of a corset, and a high quality one at that, covered by a purple silk shirt with a dark-green vest. His bored-looking face was studded with golden piercings, the largest being a hoop through his nose that was connected to his ear with a silvery chain. He had a large nose with small lips, thick eyebrows, and almond-shaped blue eyes. His face was round and pale. He had a black domino mask adorned with feathers.

He was leaning heavily on a cane that was patterned with leaves that spiraled around the black wood with one hand, and holding a glass of whatever drink Michael had just drunk in another. He took small sips, surveying the crowd passively.

Michael ducked around a person wearing a long red gown patterned with blue and green flowers to get closer to the man.

He looked up in faint interest when Michael arrived. His gaze flicked over Michael, and Michael felt oddly exposed. The fabric on the neck of the man’s shirt shifted, and Michael could see the beginnings of a tattoo. It appeared to be an eye, which was different than the flower and bird tattoos nobles usually had. Interesting. 

Michael had a small daisy tattoo on his hip, but it had gotten horribly infected, and now was too scarred to tell what it was at first glance.

Michael faintly remembered to give a clumsy bow as the man bowed as well. A new song began as Michael was rising back up, and Michael barely registered the change to a fast-paced song as the other man nodded at him.

“Good evening…” The man shrugged, and Michael registered that he wanted a name.

“Michael. Shelley,” He added, almost as an afterthought.

“Ah.” The man’s gaze traveled over him again. “Gerad Keay.”

Oh, Michael thought. The prince.

He’d heard rumors that the prince used a cane, but it had never been confirmed, not that it was really any of Michael’s business. Michael caught himself staring at it, the elegant black wood shining in the candlelight hanging off the wall just behind him.

Gerad interrupted his musings with a small chuckle. “Is it the cane?”

“Hm?” Michael looked back up.

“The cane. Most people are confused when they first see it.”

“Ah- well-” Michael stammered slightly. People in his circle that used canes were not uncommon (probably the constant risk of getting the everloving shit beaten out of you in a fight), but the nobles he met that used canes were usually well into their fifties. Gerad couldn’t have been older than 25. Michael’s own skin was sun-weathered, leaving to a constant confusion about his age when dealing with strangers.

Gerad smiled, slightly. “It’s alright.” Then he frowned. “Where are you from? I don’t remember you on the guest list.”

Michael cringed internally. Busted. To be fair, he hadn’t expected to meet someone who actually KNEW the guest list. He fumbled for words for a moment.

“Or,” Gerad continued, slightly cocking his head. “Are you from this city?” He slightly pushed back from his cane, still leaning, just not as heavily.

Michael tried for a small smile. It had been a miracle he hadn’t been asked earlier, with the rugged features of a city-dweller as well as his lack of people he knew. But he hadn’t had an excuse prepared for if he actually got CAUGHT. The challenge had been getting in. “Is that an option?”

Gerad raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to cause trouble? If you are, I would advise against it. I can guarantee you that at least four of the guards here have their eyes on you, and probably more.” His tone was smooth, not one that Michael was used to when dealing with threats. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew a threat when he heard one.

“No, sir,” Michael replied.

Gerad smiled. He walked over to a small table nearby and put down his drink. “Excellent.” He walked back over to where Michael was standing. “May I have this dance?” He stuck out a hand, and Michael was surprised to see it was ungloved. He supposed that nobles were less afraid of diseases from rich people than poor people.

Michael stretched out his own hand, scarred and calloused and missing a finger, and put it in Gerad’s own dainty hand. A faint look of surprise flickered over Gerad’s face at the missing finger, but he didn’t say anything.

“Do you know this dance?” Gerad asked, putting Michael closer. He didn’t know how dancing with the cane would work, but it was probably rude to ask, and besides, Gerad knew himself much better than Michael ever would.

“No,” Michael responded.

Gerad shrugged. “It is okay. I can show you.”

Gerad nudged Michael in the direction of the small crowd. “Just walk with me…”

Michael matched Gerad’s steps.

The music grew slightly faster. Gerad looked up. “Can you spin me?”

Michael nodded, and spun Gerad. He was clumsy, and the fact that Michael was terrified of being stepped on by Gerad’s heels didn’t help.

Gerad nodded. “Okay, rotate.”

Michael was confused for a moment, but when Gerad started turning, Michael just followed.

Gerad smiled. “This is kind of the whole dance. Just follow my lead, okay?”

Michael did so, and for the next few minutes, they just spun slowly around their circle. Occasionally, Michael would bump into someone, and Gerad would give an apology while Michael stammered awkwardly. He realised he was far out of his league.

After the dance was done, Gerad bowed at Michael, and Michael bowed back.

Gerad nodded slightly. His whole demeanor was rigid, every move seemed to be calculated, in a different way than Michael was used to. “Would you like to go outside?”

Michael gave a short huff of breath. “Yes, thank you.”

Gerad nodded and led Michael to the back doors. A guard pushed them open and bowed, and Gerad bowed back. They were already outside by the time Michael realised he should have bowed as well.

They walked down the steps and Gerad immediately flopped down on a stone bench leaning against a stone wall. Michael looked around at the scenery. The stone path stretched further than the eye could see. Carefully sculpted bushes in the shapes of animals were at every corner, and brightly colored flowers dotted the gardens. A pond, just at the edge of Michael’s vision, had a gazebo in it. There were a few other people walking around the gardens, but they were far away.

Some flowers were open, stretching towards the full moon. There was a batch of white flowers stretching over the bench where Gerad was sitting, and Michael sighed at the sweet smell.

“Enjoying the party?” Gerad asked, looking over at Michael.

“I mean…” Michael shrugged. “Yeah.”

“That’s good.” Gerad smiled. “Is it up to par with the parties outside?”

Michael laughed and sat down next to Gerad. “Not really. Drinks are better, though.”

Gerad smiled. “Yeah. I agree.”

Michael paused. “What do you mean, ‘I agree’?”

Gerad flinched. Michael had definitely prodded something he wasn’t meant to. 

There was an awkward pause. Then, Gerad said, “I used to be quite the adventurer.”

“And?”

Gerad deflated a little more. “Then, I, uh, I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. Banged up my back and legs pretty bad. They didn’t heal right, and now I have a cane.”

“Ah.” Michael looked over at the pond. He felt like this was something Gerad didn’t share with a lot of people. 

“What about your finger?” Gerad looked over. “Or, lack thereof.”

It was such a brash thing to say, Michael could definitely believe that Gerad had been slums born and raised, and laughed. Gerad blushed. “What? I told you what happened to me.”

“No- I-” Michael took a few deep breaths to stop laughing. “The way you said it-” He started laughing again. When he contained himself, he said, “Stuck my nose where I didn’t belong. A little bit of magic where it REALLY wasn’t allowed. I’m honestly lucky I didn’t lose my whole arm. Lost one of my toes, as well.”

Gerad perked up. “You can do magic?”

Michael blushed. “I mean, yeah? Nothing compared to how much you all learn in the noble circles, but I know a few spells. Nothing major, just for fixing things and growing.”

Gerad sighed. “I used to attend a school for magic.”

“And?”

“It sucked. I ran away after two months.”

“Did you learn anything?” Michael asked.

“Not really. A whole lot of theory, so ‘theoretically’ I can cast.”

Michael laughed. Then, “Do you get out much?”

Gerad snorted. “Not really. I have a brother, when I broke my leg, he took over as the crown prince. He gets out, but not like I did.” He paused and looked over at Michael. “That sounds stuck up, doesn’t it?”

Michael shrugged. “Sort of. But I get what you mean.”

Gerad sighed. “How’s it been? Over the last… two years?”

Michael didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about the fires crawling over the slums, didn’t want to think about the raiders that had attacked during their last party. But Gerad had asked. “Bad. Getting worse.”

Gerad flinched. “I thought so. Do you want to talk about it?”

Michael looked over at him. “Is there anything you can do?”

Gerad nodded. “I can’t make promises, but maybe.”

Michael sighed. This was probably the closest anyone in the slums would get to actually having a voice in the kingdom. “There are raiders. Every day. They’re killing us. If they don’t kill us, they beat the shit out of us and then drag us away. They steal our stuff and sell us poisoned food in return. They’re setting fires where we grow crops so we can’t- we can’t sustain ourselves.”

“Raiders?” Gerad sat straight up.

“Yeah. Most of them look like they're from here, but some of them clearly come from far away.”

Gerad flinched. “I’ll… I’ll talk to the queen about it.”

Michael didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to drink more of the sweet drink, try to take the edge off. Instead, despite his better judgement, he leaned against the prince and sighed.

Gerad shifted against him, but didn’t push him off.

After a few minutes, Michael realised he was crying. Gerad put an arm over him. It was kind of awkward, because Michael was at least a head taller than Gerad, but the feeling of another person was a strange luxury.

Eventually, Michael composed himself. “I’m sorry- I-”

Gerad cleared his throat. “I get it. They’re your people… it hurts to think about them- suffering.”

“Yeah.” Michael replied, and they were silent for a while.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help them,” Gerad said. He sounded earnest in a way he hadn’t all night.

“Thanks, Gerad.” Michael muttered.

“Please, call me Gerry.” Gerad- Gerry- smiled.

“Mm?” Michael smiled. “We’re on the nickname phase now?”

“You did just cry in my lap. Oh, and take off your mask. It’s going to get ruined.” 

Michael straightened up and pulled off his mask. It was decorated with jewels and something that Michael was fairly certain was golden thread. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t even his in the first place.

Gerry wiped a tear out of the corner of Michael’s eyes. “It’s a miracle nobody has come out yet.”

“What? Would you be ashamed to be caught with a peasant boy like me?” Michael laughed.

“Of course not,” Gerry said with a tone that made Michael’s heart beat faster. He was so drunk.

“I think you should take off your mask too,” Michael said. “It’s only fair.”

Gerry laughed, but pulled off his mask. In the pale light, Michael could see the freckles that dotted just under his eyes.

“Good enough for you?” Gerry said, smiling. “Were you expecting someone more handsome?”

“Nope, you’re just the right amount handsome,” Michael replied.

Gerry smiled. They sat in silence for a while.

Eventually, Gerry sighed. “I should probably go back. I may not be important, but it’s important to keep up the appearance that I am.”

Michael nodded. He didn’t want to go back, and he didn’t need to.

Gerry smiled a little, putting his mask back on. “I can grab something for you.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Anything?”

“I do have limits.”

Michael smiled. “Just uh- get me a bottle of whatever drink you had earlier.”

Gerry laughed. “That’s it?”

Michael stood up and put on his mask. “I’m not a demanding man.” He stuck out his hand.

Gerry took it and pulled himself up. 

Gerry led them to a door on the side of the ballroom Michael hadn’t noticed before. He pushed it open, and Michael was hit by the buzz of the kitchens. Gerry navigated it skillfully, while Michael stumbled over kitchen workers and kitchen utensils alike, but eventually they reached a shelf filled with bottles.

Gerry opened it and pulled out a bottle. “Here you go.”

It was larger than Michael had expected, and hung out of his pockets when he put it inside, but it worked.

Michael frowned. “I should probably leave.”

Gerry sighed. “Alright, then. I’ll show you out.”

Gerry offered his hand, and Michael took it. Gerry led Michael through more of the kitchen, and Michael couldn’t help but grab some of the food that was being prepared, and soon they reached a side door that Gerry pushed open.

“There are guards on the left hallway, but if you go down the right hallway and take the first left, you’ll reach a door that’ll lead you out. It should be guarded, but they’re more focused on people trying to come in then out,” Gerry said.

“Thanks, Gerry.” Michael smiled. He didn’t really want to leave, he’d much rather share another dance with the man, but it was getting late.

“One question, though.” Gerry frowned. “How did you get in?”

Michael smiled. “If I tell you, how will I sneak in again?”

“So…” Gerry looked genuinely confused. “You will come back?”

Michael laughed. “If I don’t, how will I make sure you fulfilled your promise? And maybe I’ll even take you outside next time.”

Gerry didn’t say anything for a moment, and Michael was scared he’d overstepped. But then he laughed. “I’d like that.”

Michael bowed one last time. It was more of a mockery than a real bow. “Goodnight, Prince Gerry.”

Gerry bowed as well. “Goodnight, Sir Shelley.”

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I know it's my story but I personally hold the headcannon that Jane Prentiss was at the party.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated!!


End file.
